looking at poly_chromatic

[psalmed]

This new place you would send me is not Versailles. I told you that I must return there with utmost urgency; the future of our beloved country is dependent upon my actions. It must be France that is my next destination, you must understand. I can not go to this new city.

No, not even for dress up. Are you not aware of what is at stake?

...no. I can not go even for him. I humbly request you stop asking.

Comments

[bedsidemanners]

But I've missed you.

[psalmed]

Surely you of all people would understand my duty to my country.

[bedsidemanners]

France will be there when you get back. I promise you.

[psalmed]

But will it be in the same condition in which I left it?

[bedsidemanners]

So I've been told, at least. I'm not sure if that's a consolation.

[psalmed]

I will be dead soon anyway, will I not? It should not concern me as much as it does.

[But France! And Maximilien!]

[bedsidemanners]

I can understand why it does.

[psalmed]

...is it good there? In a new city?

[bedsidemanners]

I don't care for some of the company so far. But it's... a lot less restrictive. A chance to do what you want.

[psalmed]

Do you keep bad company there, Monsieur?

[She assumes the worst, of course.]

Are you the only angel?

[bedsidemanners]

Not of my own volition, of course.

Hardly. The place is overrun, I'm afraid. But I'm still probably the poorest example.

[psalmed]

Of course.

The poorest example? Then are there morally upstanding angels I shall have to watch out for?

[majorcrotchgrab]

There will be no dress up.

[psalmed]

I beg to differ, monsieur. I believe I have just the gown for you.

[majorcrotchgrab]

I believe you will do no such thing.

[psalmed]

[Yes that is so a hand popping to her hip.]

I believe I will. And I believe you will like it.

[majorcrotchgrab]

Listen, woman. The only person who I'll let dress me up is my lovers.

[psalmed]

Well I am not interested in that, monsieur.

But I do not believe there will be much 'letting' to this affair.

[majorcrotchgrab]

You think a little girl like you can overpower me?

[psalmed]

I know a woman like me can be quite...persuasive.

[Also, she has a sword. And isn't above kicking men in the testicles.]

[majorcrotchgrab]

Try me.

[No. You're supposed to grab and squeeze testicles!]

[psalmed]

I do not draw a blade unless I am willing to kill someone.

[That's not first date behavior, Raikov. Instead have her standing chest to chest with you and glaring.]

[majorcrotchgrab]

[He may tower over her a bit. Being 6'2" and all. Raikov raises a brow at the threat though]

Isn't that a bit extreme?

[psalmed]

Thus why the blade is not out.

[She'll just stare at him then. And smile serenely.]

What if your lover wanted you in a dress?

[majorcrotchgrab]

... I'd do it for him. But only him.

[psalmed]

So why should I not provide the dress? And your hair. We will have to do something about that as well.

[majorcrotchgrab]

My hair is fine.

[psalmed]

Your hair is short. Perhaps a ribbon or two. Maybe a feather.

[Her fingers run through his hair, judging the texture, trying to decide what can be done with it.]

[majorcrotchgrab]

My hair is long considering military standards.

[He smacks her hand away]

[psalmed]

My brother is in the military and his hair is long than mine.

[18th century standards. She actually giggles at him smacking her hand away, reaching into her own hair to draw out a pin and using it to scoop some hair away from his eyes and pin it back.]

[majorcrotchgrab]

You're French though. I don't know how the French military works. But the Soviet requires buzzcuts.

[Raikov huffs and pulls the pin out, shoving it back at her]

[psalmed]

...So-vi-et?

[No idea what that is. She takes the pin and sighs, pouting just a tiny bit.]

But you would look so sweet with curls.

[majorcrotchgrab]

USSR. Russia. The Motherland.

[That gets a shudder out of him]

No. I'll wear a dress but I am not changing my hair.

[psalmed]

Russia! I know it well. I have never heard it called that, however, even in my time in the Court of the Empress.

[Yay century long time gaps! She frowns at him and crosses her arms. But at least she got a yes to the dress.]

What size are you? We will have to get you proper undergarments.

GO TO BED.

[majorcrotchgrab]

I'm from 1960s. That may be why.

[He wrinkles his nose]

My thong will work fine for an undergarment.

AFTER THIS I SWEAR

[psalmed]

1960s? It is not even 1760...

[Horror! Shock! Not as much as you'd expect, though. But the mention of a thong has her making a face of distaste.]

Not in my gowns, it will not. You do not look overly large. Less so with a corset on.

YOU BETTER.

[majorcrotchgrab]

... You're the first person I've met from that time period. The earliest I met was 1920s.

[HUFFFF]

I'm not wearing female undergarments or a corset!

[psalmed]

Oh dear. It seems I might be a novelty in this new place.

You would enjoy wearing them! Do you not want a tiny waist?

[majorcrotchgrab]

I do not have a tiny waist. Although I'm curvy for a man.

[psalmed]

But you could in a corset.

[Oh she knows. He could be so pretty under that uniform.]

1/2

[majorcrotchgrab]

[He is]

[majorcrotchgrab]

No.

[psalmed]

I believe the gentlemen doth protest too much.

[majorcrotchgrab]

I believe the woman needs to take no for an answer. You're worse than Yevgeny!

[psalmed]

Lia. My name is Lia.

[Serene smile. Never gonna give you up, baby.]

[majorcrotchgrab]

I'd say a pleasure to meet you, Lia, but it hasn't been.